


[Going to be rewritten] you were supposed to heal me (you still can)

by RinkaRanka_HigherRatingWorks



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League: War, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hurt Bruce Wayne, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-03-06 10:20:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18849088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinkaRanka_HigherRatingWorks/pseuds/RinkaRanka_HigherRatingWorks
Summary: Superman rejected his soulmate, but was it right thing to do?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A soulmate AU no one asked for, sounds like smth I'm gonna do.
> 
> I still don't really know where I'm going with this except for some very general idea so I will update tags if needed pls check them.

Clark Kent, Daily Planet.

From the very moment Bruce learned how to read he knew the name of his soulmate and where he would work. It was written at his wrist after all. Since then he always read all of Daily Planet’s articles, even though he was just five years old. He would spring out his bed in the morning, as a true little rascal he was, and quickly brush his teeth so he could run into the kitchen to the waiting breakfast and folded newspaper, which he would avidly read until his mother or Alfred would take the paper out of his hands and say that he must eat something or they won’t give it back. It was always a trouble to make Bruce eat anything so they wasn’t above much more drastic tactics, and if just threatening with some simple newspaper would get Bruce to eat then why not to use this opportunity?

At the age of eight the habit died. Not just because of untimely deaths of Martha and Thomas Waynes, no. When he lost both of his parents, he was placed under the care of his uncle Phillip. It was dark time on his life. It killed many things in him, such as his childish cheerfulness, enthusiasm, openness. Naivety. It left many scars too, both physical and emotional.

Three years after his uncle was found dead in some filthy backstreet with body full of bullets. Alfred became Bruce’s guardian. It was painful for him to see the child, once so sunny and happy, now so hopeless and broken. Bruce had been eating even less, his thin, short frame looking as fragile as a little snowflake, his skin just as white. He rarely talked and almost never smiled. He had no friends and was expelled from every school he got in because of his constant fights. Nevertheless he still had the best marks in each of his classes. After a few years of getting in and out of numerous schools Bruce asked Alfred to be homeschooled and get it over with. Alfred agreed, and just after a year Bruce got his high school diploma.

And on his fifteenth birthday he disappeared.

Police searched for him for months. High society buzzed with the news, some people intrigued with the mystery, some hungry for Wayne’s money or position in WE board, but none truly worried about the teen. But though there was a lot of vultures trying to get Wayne Enterprises for themselves, Lucius Fox and Alfred made a good job to save the company and maintain it on a high level on the market. Eventually the fuss over Bruce Wayne’s disappearance died down and GCPD stopped looking for him, assuming that he was dead. No one paid attention to his butler, who acted as though his ward might come back at any moment.

So no one noticed how six years after that same butler came to the pier, where passengers were coming down from the newly arrived ship. No one took notice how he heartily hugged beautiful young man in dirty worn clothes. How they almost cried, standing in each others arms for nearly twenty minutes. Or how they both took a drive to the Wayne Manor.

Days later whole country was talking about the marvelous return of the presumed dead Bruce Wayne. In the matter of weeks he regained his position in Wayne Enterprises and started making appearances at almost all social events in Gotham, steadily making an image of flippant, shallow playboy and absolute idiot. People either hated him or despised him. Reporters did both. It seemed like there was no other person any given newspaper would rather badmouth than Wayne heir.

Half a year after Bruce’s return a blurry photo of something big and black was published, accompanying article entitled: “Yet another group of criminals was found unconscious!” And after the first image, other started appearing, each in better quality than the one before, but nonetheless none of them captured the figure good enough to discern its form and size from shadows. But few things was made clear: the figure was a human male or someone looking like one, it wore a black cape, and its cowl had protrusions, which looked like small ears.

At first everyone thought that it was some fairytale made up by GCPD to spook small-time crooks. But then one night there was a fire in an apartment building. Almost all people managed to get out before first firefighters came on the scene, but a few was still inside, as their way was blocked by fallen beams. They would have died in the center of raging fire, if something – someone – hadn’t broken the window and took them, two at a time, out of burning building. Photos were made and videos were recorded. On the next day twitter’s most popular tag was “Batman”.

*

It was Clark’s first time in Gotham. He was here on some stupid assignment to visit a new charity event and take an interview from the Bruce Wayne, but it would be a lie if he said that he didn’t want to visit this city. It was the home of Batman, after all. Maybe if he is able to finish his piece soon then he could try to find the mysterious hero. And by the way, there always was a chance that he would meet his soulmate, his tattoo did mention WE after all, and the event was held by this company.

Still, he didn’t like the city in the slightest. It was rotten with crime and pollution, grim and hopeless. It was full of lead, so Clark’s vision was mostly blocked. Victims in this city almost always stayed silent, as if afraid to let their weakness be known, like if they cried for help, then even more vultures would come for their hide. His enhanced hearing was useless. It was driving him insane.

Almost as much as the event and attending guests.

He could tell without looking that all of them were hypocrites, all shallow and greedy for money, power, or both. All these enticing silky dresses and tailored tuxedos, small talks and fake smiles. And him. Bruce Playboy Wayne. The person he will have to interview. Clark never was interested in this stupid man, so he knew only what Cat has been talking about in Daily’s office. And she talked mostly about Wayne’s new sexual escapades or how he was high with drugs during his speech or something along these lines. So, yeah, Clark despised the man.

But it didn’t matter. As a professional, he will swallow his contempt and do his work.

And so he did. After a few calming breaths he moved toward Bruce Wayne, who was surrounded by a few young starlets, who desperately wanted to shove their hands down someone’s wallet. He cleared his throat, trying and failing to gain man’s attention. Clark sighed and loudly said: “Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

Not yet realizing what Clark said Bruce brushed him off, saying: “If it’s about the new WE project then you better ask Lucius.”

  
A moment later both locked shocked eyes. Neither could speak.

Then, Clark’s face morphed in an expression of pure disdain.

Bruce pursed his lips and looked away.

Clark stormed out of the ballroom.

After the event he will catch the socialite – his soulmate – and ask him a few questions, keeping up a neutral face. Bruce will try to talk. Clark will ignore the attempt and leave without looking back.

*

Superman met Lois Lane. Clark already knew her, but she never paid him any attention when in his civilian persona. But a few months back he became Superman, and she seemed enraptured with the hero.

She was intelligent, brave, strong-willed. Everything he could want. Everything his soulmate will never be.

They started dating. At first just as Superman and Lois, but slowly she discovered his secret.

And she got bored.

Their relationship lasted a little over a year and they already couldn’t stand each other, arguments becoming their normal conversation. And with every new biting word Clark couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he would be happier with his soulmate. Maybe this idiotic person would make him feel less lonely or if he could love him for being Clark and not Superman.

He started to wonder if he still had a chance to fix what he had done.

The answer was “No”.

Every time Daily Planet tried to arrange a meeting with Bruce Wayne, his secretary or his butler would make sure that the person who would interview the billionaire would be anyone but Clark. He started to look for personal number or e-mail, but found out, that despite being simple and guileless, Bruce Wayne had absolutely no traces in web, except long expired articles. Clark got interested in them, and soon enough stories of terrible murders in Crime Alley, strange death of a guardian and mysterious disappearance were etched in his eidetic memory.

He got a strange feeling when reading them. There was something in them, something like some kind of moth, whose shadow you can glimpse now and then in the dark, but never catch the real thing without turning on the light. This feeling was pretty common for him. He is an investigative reporter after all. So, he investigates.

Nowhere he looked he could find anything about Bruce’s whereabouts in time of his presumed death. But he managed to find something else. Stories, where an old soldier was given money for his expensive surgery, or where homeless people without any skills got a job and a roof, or how WE started upgrading their industrial buildings to reduce level of pollution.

Maybe it was not Bruce’s doings. After all everybody said that Mr. Fox was the one who was the Real head of Wayne Enterprises. But what if it was the other way around?

Clark was confused, torn between his disdain and a new spark of appreciation he never thought he would have towards this man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is somewhat of a mix of JL:War and JL&JL Unlimited. And yeah, I have a hc that J'onn and Bruce are very good friends.

Darkside attacked Earth. It was the first time that the most prominent heroes of the planet ever met. Superman, who for a long time now tried to find someone like him met nine heroes at once, most of them with some kind of superpower.

Except for Batman.

The first one of them, the one Kal wanted to meet the most, turned out to be normal human. Not that it made him lesser, no, in Clark’s eyes it made him even more admirable. To be normal, fragile human and still keep doing what they all did, to be that brave, to have such determination, so much devotion, it just… Clark is not ashamed to admit that his internal fan girl was happily squealing all along.

On the next day everyone gathered once again for the big celebration of their victory. There the heroes of Earth made an alliance. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Cyborg, Shazam, Martian Manhunter, Hawkgirl and Aquaman together formed the Justice League to help each other and to team up in the face of global threat. They agreed upon weekly meetings to keep in touch and update the team on villain’s new schemes and weapons.

When everything was said and done, Superman was the last one to leave. When he did he super sped to his parent’s home and kept gushing over what happened for the biggest part of the evening, talking a mile a second in weak parody of Flash. His parents smiled, corners of eyes crinkling, happy that their beloved child finally found people like him, someone who could back him up in the dangerous world of superheroes and villains.

When he got to the point where he was taken by Darkside, Martha and Jonathan both missed a few heartbeats. Seeing their distress, Clark quickly reassured them: “Don’t worry! Batman was there. He saved me.” On the last sentence his smile became even bigger and his eyes got this warm feeling to them he got every time when talking about someone dear to him. His parents glanced at each other with knowing smile.

*

The first few meetings had taken place in the S.T.A.R. Labs conference room as they waited until Batman’s mysterious project on JL’s headquarters were finished. He hadn’t said a word about the project, not its whereabouts, not the names of investors, nothing, so it would be a surprise for the whole team.

On this first meetings Superman got to befriend every member of the team. Well, except for Batman. Batman, it turned out, was very hard man to communicate with if the conversation steered from the business. He didn’t speak unless absolutely necessary, didn’t joke, didn’t smile. He made his presence as efficient as possible, and if there was no use of him – he disappeared. Sometimes – most of the time - he was very irritating with his aloof demeanor, as if he wasn’t even a part of the team, and most of the members had very conflicting feelings about his methods.

“Our job is to give people hope, not to scare them!” Green Lantern John Stewart said about it once. Many agreed. And Superman, though he admired Batman as the first hero, too found himself on Lantern’s side. In fact now, when he actually thought about it, he found out that he had no idea how exactly Batman works. And with all this ominous vibe and cold demeanor, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Soon Batman became somewhat an outsider in the team. He rarely showed up on meetings, - though he always read the logs of each one, - never talked with anyone outside missions except for J’onn, who, somehow, managed to find common ground with the Dark Knight, and whenever you called him said he was busy.

Superman was disappointed.

*

A few months after the forming of Justice League, Superman found himself at one of many charity events in Metropolis. The only difference was that this particular Gala was under terroristic attack. At some point of the evening a group of heavily armed criminals, most likely members of Intergang, broke into ball room where the event were taking place. They made all guests give them their expensive belongings and money, and even decided to take a few hostages on their way out to demand ransoms.

On that point Superman entered. He made a quick work with henchmen, on his way untying hostages. On one of them he suddenly paused. Familiar icy blue eyes were wide as if scared, but the heartbeat was steady and his breathing calm.

‘It is not time to dwell! You will have time to talk with him later!’ Shaking himself off his little stupor, Superman started working on knots again.

Tied to one of the pillars leader of criminals smirked. This little pause was everything he needed. With amazing flexibility he reaching out for his hidden small gun and aimed it at the broad back covered with red.

Loud shot ringed through room. A few moments later Superman fell face first on the floor, grunting in pain, his left shoulder seeping red. The feel of safety, that had taken over hostages the moment Superman flew in was quickly replaced with panic. Those who were untied started running away, criminals making their way out of shackles too, shooting at the screaming crowd.

Clark more felt then saw as someone moved him on his side, bandaging his wound with a piece of white cloth. When his vision finally focused he saw the bright eyes of Gotham’s Prince, his white dress shirt lacking on of the sleeves. With his brows furrowed, his face got some strange intensity, something in his eyes giving an impression of furious lion.

Another figure moved in his line of sight. It was the man who shot him, making his way to Superman with a smirk and gun in hand.

“Well, seems like you are not all that invulnerable, eh? Can’t stop all the bullets, Papa Smurf?” He then looked at Bruce, as if seeing him for the first time. “What is it, precious? Why such a face? Do not fret, we won’t do anything to you if you will be a good boy. Though we can, if you want.” He said with hungry leer. But in the next second his face was absolutely serious. “Now, dear, get out of the way, we need to finish with Big Blue. Billy, Tom, help me move him, he looks heavy.” He made a move to grab Superman…

And fell with loud thud. Bruce moved so fast even Clark had trouble catching his kick, which knocked out leader's legs from under him.

Both men, who leader called Billy and Tom, grabbed their guns and tried to aim at Bruce, but he moved to fast and in a moment jumped at one of them, knocking him on the floor and with quick movements lending him into unconsciousness. The other mobster was afraid of shooting in such a close proximity to his teammate and instead charged at billionaire, aiming his punch in the man’s face. With lazy grace, Bruce dodged the hit and made his counterattack, other henchmen rounding up on him.

Kal watched the fight with quiet fascination. The movements of – of his _soulmate_ – was utterly precise, effective, fluid… and somehow familiar. Even though he had an eidetic memory he still had a hard time placing it, especially with a Kryptonite bullet stuck in his shoulder, sanding wave after wave of pain through his entire body. He was feeling progressively more sick and dizzy with every second, his vision blacking out now and then, black dots swimming before his eyes, his hearing filled with noise of his own blood rushing through his system.

He fell unconscious few moments later, watching his soulmate fighting a fight that wasn’t his.

*

Superman waked up to the blinding light and hum of medical equipment. After a few moments of adjusting his vision he recognized the room as one of S.T.A.R. Labs medical chambers. He was there on few occasions, but never as a patient yet. Before the League he got his health care in the Fortress.

Digital watch on the nearby bedside table told him that he spend here the rest of the night, as it was about 11 pm when he crashed into the “party”, and now it was 5:47 am.

He felt a little sting of pain in his shoulder and with that came recollection of the evening’s events. He recalled criminals, hostages, intense blue gaze, loud bang of the shot, pain in his shoulder and… and how Bruce Wayne, vapid playboy who hadn’t had to work a day in his life and who always got what he wanted with a flirtatious smile and a bunch of cash, was fighting armed gangsters with nothing but his hands, beautifully dangerous as if he was born to fight, his face lit up with fierce determination, more alive then Kal had ever seen it.

This memory was so absolutely incredible that Clark found himself wondering if it was real at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw I wanted to tell you that even though I don't always answer your comments, I always read them, all of them! And please, feel free to tell me your opinion, whatever it is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for long wait! I hope I will be able to update more frequently in the future. Thanks everybody for waiting!

A few moments after Clark woke up door in the room opened with a soft hiss, and very unexpected guest came in. He moved almost silently, even Superman’s super hearing straining to catch a sound, and it’s looked like his presence alone made shadows darker.

“Aren’t you too busy to leave Gotham for even a second?” Clark asked him with now a usual scoff. After the few months of being on the same team he already got used to constant arguments with other hero.

Batman looked him dead in the eyes, and even though half of his face was hidden, Clark almost felt the narrowed glare. How he was managing to glare with a motionless mask and lenses was above Clark.

“The mobsters that shot you were former members of a Gotham gang, before their leader was sent in jail. As it turns out they were paid by Luthor to kill you, they got the Kryptonite from hi…”

“Yeah, yeah, Lex again. Why are you here?” Clark interrupted the man. He felt irritation starting to build in him even though Dark Knight hadn’t done anything yet.

Batman was silent for a minute, quietly staring at Superman, who with each second felt more and more irritated and uncomfortable because of his lying position, which made for a power imbalance. He wanted to stand up and glare down at slightly shorter man, just because of his need to be the alpha male in the room. Just as Clark was about to sit up, Batman spoke.

“I’m here because I’m the only one in the League who can actually perform an operation on you. Funny thing, turns out no one have surgical equipment with kryptonite tips and only J’onn actually knows something about medicine. Well, beside me.”

With this being said, he came closer to one of the medical scanners, reading it analysis while Clark felt his face getting red, and a few moments later said: “I would strongly advise you to stay in bed for another hour: though your wound is healed, your powers still need some time to restore. But knowing that you love to be oh so very independent and recalcitrant when it comes to something that I said, I will leave the decision to you. Do whatever you want.”

And with that he left, Clark watching him disappear behind door and feeling like a fool.

*

Superman chose to listen to Batman’s advise and stayed there for another hour. He felt shame he didn’t want to feel for snapping at the man who actually healed him and didn’t leave immediately just because he didn’t want to accidentally run into him.

While he was there he couldn’t stop to think about what Batman said. He never actually thought about him being in need of an operation outside of Fortress, so he hadn’t ever thought about the fact that his operation would require more specific instruments. Now, when he faced the problem, he understood how foolish it was to not ever think about it. Yes, it was just a bullet in his shoulder, but it was kryptonite bullet, so even if it hadn’t hit vital organs it still could kill him given time. What if no one in the League had tools with kryptonite tips?

…and why Batman have?

Why would Batman even bother himself with making a special medical equipment for him? Does he… does he actually care?

No way.

More likely is that J’onn asked him for it. Maybe he even had to bargain for it, feeding Bats with some information or whatever it is the Dark Knight would consider valuable enough to bother himself with his teammate’s health. Besides it turns out that he does have kryptonite, what could he use it for? There’s not all that much variants.

…but it also turns out that kryptonite may be used not only as a weapon on him, but as a cure too. So, maybe there _is_ other variants?

Clark left the medical bay utterly confused, absolutely forgetting about his strange memories of predator’s grace and wild blue eyes.

*

After leaving the S.T.A.R. Labs at 7 in the morning, Superman flew to Metropolis. He considered not going to work today, but seeing as he was quite fine he decided against it. It wouldn’t do for Clark Kent to not show up after Superman was shot. It wasn’t that much of a clue but still better to be cautious then sorry.

He took his time changing into one of his hideous suits, seeing as he still had a lot of time before work, and decided to check out the Daily Planet’s website just to see if he missed something. The first article predictably held the title “Superman got shot during hostage situation!” by Lois. Even though he knew what exactly happened he still started reading her article just because he loves the way she writes and it’s kind of a habit of his to read all Planet’s articles.

There was a few statements from different people, recalling how they were held hostages, and how Superman flew in to save the day, all the usual stuff. But no one knew anything about what happened after Superman was shot, as almost all guests quickly left the place, so Clark couldn’t figure out what happened after. Actually it was the most interesting part for him. Sure, he remembered a few moment including his soulmate fighting, but how could that be true? He was a playboy billionaire, how was he supposed to know how to fight? Surely it was some sort of kryptonite induced hallucination.

Suddenly an idea came to him. The hostages may not know what happened, but what about the League? They must know something since he got into S.T.A.R. Labs somehow. He decided to call the Cyborg who practically lived there and ask him. He didn’t have to wait, the hero answering him the second he received the call (unlike some dark and broody asshole).

“Hey, what is it Supes?”

“Hey Vic. Um, could you tell me what happened after I got shot yesterday?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you? Okay, so, it turns out that Batman was somewhere nearby, looking exactly for these bastards, and once he figured that there was the hostage situation he hurried there. He got at the place just a few minutes after you were shot. He knocked out all these mobs and took you here. Actually he made a report on it so you can read it if you want, it’s a bit more detailed. Here, I sent it to you.”

On his old laptop’s screen a new window opened up with a text file. Clark started reading it at super speed.

“Thanks Vic. Helped me really much”

“Ask whenever you need. Actually Bats had to tell you this. It seems this bastard couldn’t be bothered to give you a spare minute, huh? It’s a miracle he actually helped you out.” Cyborg huffed in annoyance.

“Y-yeah.” Clark drawled, recalling their earlier conversation. He couldn’t really blame Batman, could he?

“Well anyway I’m glad you’re feeling better. See you!”

“Yeah, bye.”

With that the line was disconnected and for a few minutes he just stared blankly at his laptop. This explained his strange memories. He had a quickly made up theory that the man who fought the mobsters was actually Batman, but his brain, under the effect of deadly green mineral, mixed his image with Bruce's as he was one of hostages, the one he was untying the last. That was easy enough to believe especially when his eidetic memory supplied him with images of the fight and all previous times he had seen Batman fighting, movements eerily similar.

That left two questions:  
What happened with Bruce Wayne after he was untied? (He will never admit it, but a small part of him really wanted him to be okay)  
And why exactly was Batman there? Yes, he said that these guys were former members of Gotham’s gang, but they were too unimportant to chase after them, weren’t they? And if they got paid by Luthor, wasn’t it Superman’s problem? Why would he bother with Clark’s shit, especially when his favorite clown was once again somewhere in dark corners of Gotham’s underbelly?

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone’s ringing. Shacked up from zoning out, he answered it quickly and without really looking on caller’s id, brain straining to catch up with real world. He may have given a side of his phone a little dent.

“Clark! Clark, are you okay?” his mothers voice came out of dynamics, electronics doing nothing to muffle her distress. “Clark, I just saw on the news, oh my sweet boy, are you-“

“Yeah, mom, I’m fine, I’m totally fine, please, mom, listen to me, please calm down. I’m okay. I’m already healed, as if I hadn’t even been hurt. Batman was there, he helped, it’s fine, alright? Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry I hadn’t called you right away, I, just, I’m confused and, uhh, ma, it’s complicated. Ma. I’m so confused.” Clark rubbed his temples, feeling as if he drowns in all of his contradicting thoughts from the moment of his awakening, in all his unanswered questions.

“What is it, dear? You can tell me, maybe together we could make more sense out of it?”

“It’s just… never mind. It’s okay, ma. I will figure it out. Sorry for forgetting to call. I will drop by soon.” And with that he ended his call.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I remind you that I'm not native speaker, so if you find any mistake, please don't hesitate to tell me.
> 
> Enjoy :)

No matter how confused Clark was by bullet accident, life goes on, day by day, and he still has work to do, both as reporter and Superman, and the accident becomes forgotten when a few weeks later a dictator from another planet once again tries to invade Earth. Of course the League has assembled and gave a fight, that’s exactly why it was created after all. With a few injured, even fewer casualties and millions dollars of property damage the fight was won and the elite of Star City, where the main action took place, decided to honor the heroes with big celebration of their victory.

The ball is held by Queen Industries with support from government and a few other big companies, Wayne Enterprises among them. The most expensive restaurant of the city, which is placed on the top floor of city’s highest skyscraper, was rented for the occasion. All the most important people of the state is here, as well as some from all around the country. It’s no surprise, this is the first time the whole League is attending such a party. Well, except for Batman, of course.

Clark is not a newbie to such things, though most of the times he comes as his mild-mannered reporter persona. Oliver Queen himself takes the role to introduce Superman to everyone he deems important. Clark is ready for the steady stream of admirers, businessmen trying to become his friends to get not existing privileges, ladies trying to subtly (or not so subtly) seduce him and hopefully become The Super’s Woman and reporters almost fighting for his statements.

What he is not quite ready for is dark haired man in tightly fit tuxedo to come to them and with shiny smile offer him a glass of champagne, another one held in neatly manicured hand.

These so familiar blue eyes meet Oliver’s for a second, the look on billionaires faces that of a secret inside joke, that Superman is only able to catch because of his superpowers. The moment is quickly gone, and Oliver with a neutrally polite face gestures at newcomer.

“Superman, I’m sure you’ve already heard about Bruce Wayne.” The man in question smiling brightly up at Superman, his eyes strange, unreadable.

“Yes, I have. Quite hard not to when his name is in every second magazine.” And with that Clark held out his hand towards the man, wondering if he recognizes him, wondering if he would run away if he did, or if the fact that Superman is his soulmate would make him stay and throw himself at him like all those “seducers”. Wondering if maybe Bruce would do this without knowing Clark’s identity.

With a little hesitation Bruce takes his hand and with that Clark unconsciously opens his senses to take in the other man. And that’s yet another thing he wasn’t quite ready for. He wasn’t ready to feel with his heightened senses all the little scars and callouses of the other’s hand, wasn’t ready to see fading bruises on knuckles and traces of long gone fractures, to smell the faint notes of metal, leather, blood under some rich perfume he doesn’t even knows the name of, to hear the steady beat of his heart and the rasp of his inhales, all at once.

It’s overwhelming. He can’t make sense of what he feels, only that what his senses signals him doesn’t match up with the shiny slicked back hair, silky suit, relaxed stance and flirtatious smile. He tries to analyze these differences between expectations and reality, but nothing comes out of it. Kryptonian’s brain, which works way faster than human’s, can’t process why would careless billionaire have bruises, why would the body clad in silk smell of leather, why would hands which never have done any work have callouses and why the sound of his heart resembles that of an athlete.

The only coherent thought that actually makes it to the surface of his consciousness is _It’s the first time I touch my soulmate_.

And then Bruce breaks the handshake, nods, and goes away, leaving dazedly staring Superman behind with a glass of champagne in his hands.

Beside him Oliver smirks.

*

Some time later Oliver departs too, leaving Clark to freely mingle with guests, and everything goes as it should, except that Clark can’t stop glancing back at Bruce, who seemed to have a goal to give every member of the League a glass of champagne, which, by the way, Clark actually tried and was pleasantly surprised. He wasn’t a big fan of alcohol in general, but that one was pretty nice.

But no amount of alcohol could stop his mind right now from thinking about Wayne. Once again he had this feeling, telling him that there was a mystery in this man, something he had been given a glimpse of, and the next moment it was gone. He had the exact same one when reading all these articles about the man.

His reporter’s intuition told him to observe, and so he did.

He kept part of his focus on him, listened how he talked with businessmen, flirted with starlets, complemented Diana and laughed at Barry’s jokes. A few times through the evening Clark tried to come and talk to him, but somehow Bruce always slipped away. First he had to answer some reporter’s questions, then a beautiful woman, who, apparently, was his date, wouldn’t stop (very annoyingly) flirting with him, then he introduced Clark to some elderly lady, saying that she always wanted to meet Superman, and leaved them to talk, making Clark listen to the lady’s stories. It almost felt like he was avoiding him.

When Clark finally had found a way to excuse himself from the conversation, Bruce was nowhere in sight, so he had to concentrate on his hearing a bit harder to locate him. A few moments later he heard his heartbeat coming from balcony, another one near. Oliver Queen’s voice said:

“That was quite a smooth move.”

“It’s not the right place to talk about it.” Bruce’s voice grumbled, all carelessness and languidness gone, cold seriousness replacing it.

“So, you’re positive she will come today.” Oliver continued anyway.

“Yes.”

“And will this actually work?”

“I can only hope so. I didn’t have enough time.”

“Hmm. What do we do if not?”

“I can call my friend, can you call yours?”

“His number is on a speed dial. But what we gonna do with our friends if it doesn't work?”

“I have it under control. And at least one of them is immune.”

Oliver chuckles. “You have it all planed, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” Bruce answers, amused.

“Of course you do.” They both chuckle and stay silent for a few moments. Then: “So, our deal about your little club…”

“Still stands.”

“Nice to hear that. And the one about my friend’s shipments…”

“I will sort it out.”

“Aw, come on. He is _my_ friend, and his merchandise is _my_ deal.”

“This deal is taking place on my turf, so now it’s mine.”

“Ugh… You’re so stubborn, it’s ridiculous. _Fine_ , whatever! Just let me know how it goes. And don’t complain if I will do the same when _your_ business is in _mine_ Star City!” The Queen heir sounds aggravated.

“Sounds fair to me.” Bruce is calm.

“ _Good_!”

“Good.”

They both are silent once again, but, again, not for long. Oliver seems to cool down quite easily, and speaks up again: “And what about this little kitty of yours?”

“What’s about her?”

“You do realize that she is here to stole something?”

“Probably already did.”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

“We already talked about it. You didn’t seem to mind when I explained.”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure if she actually follows the rules. What if-“

He doesn’t get to hear the end of the phrase as another sounds snap Superman out of his eavesdropping. Close to the main entrance people start to gasp, and whisper, and move towards the other end of the room, although some of them are looking progressively more and more dazed. Pulling his focus towards the center of commotion, Clark sees red-haired woman, covered in leaves instead of clothes. He recognizes her instantly, as he had read Batman’s report on her. Poison Ivy strides confidently through the crowd, her steps closely followed by a quickly moving vines. The air suddenly is full of wonderful flowery smell, and it quickly grows in intensity. People all around start to make out in very vulgar manner, some of them removing parts of their clothing.

Flash, Shazam and Aquaman seem to be affected as well, but all others Leaguers are surprisingly fine, though normally only Cyborg is immune to her pheromones, all others having to take antidote. Or, that was what Batman said. Seems the greatest detective made a miscalculation.

While Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter and Wonder Woman are trying to keep their teammates from doing something very inappropriate, Superman, Cyborg and Hawkgirl move to the villainess in order to stop her. She, of course, spots them, and smiles arrogantly, making her plants grab some people and move them near her, making a living shield out of them, leaving superheroes unable to attack her.

“What is it, darlings? Why won’t you come and _play_ with others? Don’t you want to?” At her words the intensity of her pheromones became even stronger, Superman starting to feel somewhat hot and sweaty, struggling to keep focus.

Hawkgirl’s temper flares, and the next second she is flying towards Ivy, but before she could crash into the living shield she makes a detour and instead hits one of the vines with her mace, Cyborg joining in a moment later. Superman starts destroying her plants too, therefore freeing Ivy’s hostages.

What he doesn’t notice is a vine, that comes behind his back and in a moment of distraction captures him. He tries to fight it off, but for some reason he starts to feel weaker and weaker, unable to resist. In that moment all of Ivy’s attention focuses solely on him, and he is moved towards her, her deadly lips coming nearer and nearer, obviously planning on giving him his last kiss.

Except that she couldn’t quite come through with this plan as her face is smacked hard by Hawkgirl. Together with Cyborg, they quickly freed all the hostages, and is able to get to her while she was distracted.

Realizing that her plan hadn’t gone how it was supposed to from the very beginning and that she is outnumbered, she quickly flees the scene, her plants moving away with her.

Clark is feeling sick and shaky, his powers almost gone. He has a hard time standing and Cyborg notices it, quickly coming to his aid. He scans him, and turns out that Ivy’s plant was covered with Kryptonite dust. Green Lantern makes a vacuum cleaner and a box and all the lingering bits of the mineral is sucked off from his uniform.

The effect of the pheromones is wearing out, and people all around start to become progressively more and more embarrassed with their actions, some of them desperately trying to find their clothes, Superman just as desperately trying not to look on them. Though it’s becomes easier when one particular person catches his eye. His hair is dishevelled, lips is in red lipstick, suit’s wrinkled and tie is undone. But his pupils are normal sized and his heartbeat is as steady as it was. He is making his way out of the room, his date going with him, her short black hair is just as messy, her makeup a bit smudged and her heart just as calm as his.


End file.
